


Bananas

by DameRuth



Series: The L-Space Trilogy [2]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25247437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: Another crossover with the Discworld.  Sometimes a banana isn't just a banana -- sometimes it's a daiquiri.  Sequel to "Interlibrary Loan."[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, originally posted 2007.12.26. While on the subject of Terry Pratchett, if you like my DameRuth writing, and also like Good Omens, I've written - and am continuing to write - some fic for the latter over on myargyle4evapseud, so I'll put a plug for that here.]
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: The L-Space Trilogy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829134
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Bananas

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaargh. The bunnies got me. Blame this one on souleswanderer.
> 
> * * *

The books were restless.  
  
They fluttered and whispered on their shelves, and a few of the weightier (literally and metaphorically) tomes rattled their chains. The Librarian of Unseen University, perched comfortably atop his desk, glanced over the pages of the book he was reading without raising his head. He wasn’t aware of any particular threat, and the books didn’t sound precisely _scared_ , so he wasn’t about to waste energy panicking — yet.  
  
No harm keeping one eye peeled, however.  
  
Still without moving his head, the Librarian scanned from side to side, but saw nothing besides the nighttime outlines of the stacks — faintly illuminated by his single candle lantern, but still as familiar as the wrinkly black-leather backs of his own hands. He gave a mental shrug, and was about to turn his attention back to the written page when he heard footsteps, and saw a tall, stooped figure turn around a corner.  
  
The Librarian carefully closed his book and set it aside. Then he waited to see what the newcomer would do. He wasn’t particularly worried — not yet. A three hundred pound orangutan with a four-foot reach and muscles like steel cables naturally has a great deal of self-confidence and _savior faire_.  
  
The intruder didn’t look terribly frightening, either. As he walked towards the candlelight, the Librarian could clearly see a tall, thin, youngish man in a conservatively (if oddly) cut brown suit, his hands in his pockets and his hair standing up so wildly it seemed to be making a bid for freedom and autonomy. No hat, no robes — not a wizard . . . which made him unusual. The Librarian narrowed his eyes as he considered. He could swear he hadn’t seen this man before, but he seemed somehow familiar.  
  
The young man stopped a polite distance away (though, whether he knew it or not, still within arm’s length, for an orangutan), and regarded the Librarian morosely from brown, kicked-puppy eyes.  
  
“Oh, you,” he said, without enthusiasm. “I often wondered were you were from.” He raised his head and looked around with almost half-hearted interest. “This must be it. Rather _livelier_ books than most Libraries, I must say.”  
  
The Librarian’s thoughts rolled like tumblers in a lock, and then clicked into place. He _did_ know this man, just not like this.  
  
“Ook?” he asked, by way of confirmation.  
  
“Hm? Oh, yes, that. I’ve changed since the last time we met.”  
  
The Librarian nodded sagely. He knew all _about_ that sort of thing. Still, it didn’t answer the question as to why this individual was here tonight.  
  
“Ook?”  
  
The brown-suited man looked down at the toes of his canvas shoes and vented a long, slow sigh. “She’s gone,” he said in a low, rough voice.  
  
“Ook.”  
  
“No, it wasn’t her choice. Or my choice, for that matter.”  
  
“Eek.”  
  
“Yes. Her. The one you met that time. I got to say goodbye, at least. Cost me a star. But I still couldn’t tell her how I felt . . .” he ran his hand across his eyes, and it trembled. In fact, the man was on the edge of exhaustion, the Librarian realized.  
  
“You know what I could really use right now?” the man continued, rhetorically. The Librarian had a good idea, and was already reaching back and down to open a drawer by touch, when the man answered his own question. “A banana.”  
  
The Librarian’s hand froze where it was, and he considered. Remembered that this man shared his love of the printed word, was generous about sharing the contents of his own Library and was courteous with his requests to borrow books in return from the Unseen Library. He was a kindred spirit, of sorts.  
  
He deserved it.  
  
The Librarian’s hand shifted directions, and opened a different drawer. Working entirely by feel, his long, clever fingers plucked two bananas from the bunch concealed there. Gravely, he offered one to the man in brown, and took the other for himself.  
  
“Ook.”  
  
The brown man huffed a weak but genuine laugh. “Thanks,” he said taking the proffered fruit with gratitude. He peeled it expertly, and engulfed half of it with one bite. He closed his eyes as he chewed, with evident delight.  
  
“Oh. Oh, ‘fank you I needed that,” he said, with a commendable lack of table manners. “Nuffin’ like potaffium.” He folded his long legs and plopped down where he was to sit on the floor — no self-consciousness, no fussing about finding a chair. It wasn’t a particularly human gesture. The Librarian approved.  
  
The two of them munched in a companionable silence, while the Librarian thought. When the brown-suited man finished, and politely handed his peel back to the Librarian, the Librarian passed him another banana . . . and then pulled the bottle out of the first drawer. The Librarian yanked the cork from the bottle with an impressive array of teeth amounting to total overkill for the task at hand, and spat the cork across the room with an impressive barreling of his flexible lips. The cork bounced and clattered off the far wall, and the Librarian reached down to offer the man the open bottle.  
  
“Eek.”  
  
The man met him halfway, with an arm just as skinny and nearly as long as the Librarian’s own. Another point in his favor. He took a cautious sniff, and laughed again. “Banana with a rum chaser. Almost a daiquiri. An excellent idea. Thank you again, my friend,” he said and toasted the Librarian.  
  
He alternated bites of banana with long pulls of alcohol, apparently oblivious to the burn of the Mended Drum’s adequate-for-the-money-but-that’s-not-saying-much best. When he was finished, he passed the skin and the bottle back to the Librarian, and shifted around so he could lean his back against the side of the desk. He sighed again, but sounded more relaxed and less depressed than he had.  
  
“Yeah, thass’ it,” he said. “Thass’ exactly . . . what . . . I . . . needed . . .”  
  
He trailed off and was silent for a few breaths, before beginning to snore faintly.  
  
The Librarian considered the bottle. Just a finger’s worth of mostly-clear amber liquid sloshed about in the bottom. He shrugged, and knocked it back — easier than going to find the cork in the dark, and waste not, want not.  
  
He set the empty bottle neatly next to the lantern, and reached for his book. Then he paused, and leaned back to fumble around under the desk. He pulled out a battered woolen blanket, shook a cloud of orange hairs out of it, and swung it out and around to settle gracefully over the sleeping figure.  
  
Riffling through the pages like a professional gambler having his way with a deck of cards, the Librarian found his place, and settled down to resume his reading, while around them the books quieted and settled down into peaceful, papery repose.  


* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=17906>


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